


Close Enough

by aliassmith



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: M/M, Misogyny, Out of Character, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-09
Updated: 2012-04-09
Packaged: 2017-11-03 07:53:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/379077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliassmith/pseuds/aliassmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zach denies he’s in denial.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Close Enough

“So, Scarlett Johansson, huh?”

“Scarlett Johansson.”

“She’s pretty cute.”

“Yes she is.”

Zach knows from Bana that Aussie guys aren’t always the loudest pricks in the room, but Chris Hemsworth, sitting beside him at the bar and nursing a fresh beer, is taking that reservedness to a whole other level. Throw in a grunt every now and then and a couple more monosyllabic answers and he’ll be verging on Russel Crowe territory. Or was Crowe from New Zealand? Fuck, Karl would kill Zach for a slip like that. Whatever. The dude is being a dick. Zach’s glad he’s only had to deal with him half a dozen times or so since the whole Trek shebang.

“Do you have any idea how many guys here would kill to be you today? Just for the chance to stand next to her, even.” Still no response from Chris outside of a brief nod and the flick of a thumb over the curling label on his beer. “You know, with the eyes and those tits and all. She’s like a walking comic book character.”

Chris smirks, and even if his eyes don’t leave the label, Zach’s still thinking finally, some feedback.

“You like that, huh?” says Chris.

Zach half-shrugs. “Well, I mean. She’s, like, Jessica Rabbit or something.”

“Jessica Rabbit?”

Yeah, okay, not a great choice for comparison, but what, he’s gotta carry the conversation and be clever?

“Or something.” he dodges. “So... You gonna hit that?”

“Scarlett?” Chris asks, and Zach thinks no, Jessica. He nods yes and Chris shakes his head a little. “She’s married.”

“No shit, for reals?”

“Yep.”

“Damn.”

Zach lets the pause between them hang a little, hoping maybe Hemsworth will take the initiative this time.

Nope, not gonna happen.

Zach’s fighting the urge to roll his eyes—this is so much harder than it should be. They’re guys, they’re in a bar, they’re talking about girls... what the hell else does this guy want from him? If Pine was sitting here right now they’d be thigh high in semi-intellectual badinage—persiflage, repartee, some other word-of-the-day that would make Pine nod and say good one and then try and one-up him with some obscure and probably mispronounced Latin—then Pine would tilt his beer at a nearby flash of accidental side-boob, Zach would grin his acknowledgement and they’d go back to the conversation. Easy, yeah? So why couldn’t he make it work with this Chris?

“Still,” Zach broke the silence, more for his own sanity than out of any sense of good manners. “Not like you’re short on offers anyway, right?”

Chris raises an eyebrow, which Zach takes to mean do go on.

“I mean think about it, you’re about to become a comic book god. And you’re at Comic Con, man. These are your people.”

The other eyebrow joins the first. You have my undivided attention, Zach interprets.

“I’m just saying you should get some while the getting’s good. This time next year, you won’t be able to walk ten steps without a camera in your face. And let me tell you, dude—big movie roles and getting recognised by every pap on the block does not always end with you getting your dick sucked by wannabe starlets and next-top-models like you’d think.”

The bored scowl that lands on Chris’s face when Zach finishes speaking tells him that maybe he wasn’t as fluent in eyebrow as he thought. Still, Chris does follow it up with an actual response.

“Speaking from personal experience, Quinto?”

Zach shrugs. Now who’s noncommittal, bitch.

“So now you want to be my wingman.” Not really a question, but Zach takes it.

“That’s what I’m saying! We can find you a cute little geekette to-”

“Zach, c’mon. I don’t need a wingman.”

“What? I’m totally good at it. Bitches love me.”

“Zach.”

“What about her?” Zach uses the patented Pine beer-tilt-and-leer to point out his target.

“What about her?”

“What, too slutty? Not slutty enough? Work with me here, dude.”

“Zach. Seriously. Stop.”

“Stop what?”

“This. This whole bro thing you’re trying to do.”

“...” Yeah, no idea what that’s about.

Chris huffs, like he knows he’s going to have to say more than five words together and he’s pissed about it. “Look, I’m sorry. I get that this is a thing you do, and that’s fine, whatever, but I don’t need it. Can’t we just... Hey, you should tell me about that comic book thing you’re doing. It’s a big deal, right?”

“What? No. Come on! Are you seriously telling me you don’t wanna get laid tonight?”

“I’m telling you,” he pauses, and Zach can’t help but think it’s for effect, especially when he throws in this look. Yeah. Dude’s definitely an actor. “I can see through your bullshit.”

What? “Okay, I have no idea what you’re-”

“Yes, you do.” And there’s that look again, and Zach thinks maybe he gets it, but he hopes that he’s wrong, coz if one kid, in one hour, can dig through all the bullshit Zach’s been piling himself under for the last however long, then-- fuck it. No. No way he knows.

Chris coughs out a laugh that might be a sigh and taps Zach’s beer with the neck of his own. “Just... stop being a dick and drink your drink. I’ve been here since nine, you’ve got some catching up to do.”

Later, when the ‘too slutty/not slutty enough’ girl from earlier starts making eyes at them from across the bar, Chris thunks his beer down and stretches his arms in front of him until both his shoulders pop. “Alright. I’m calling it a night.”

“Already?” Zach can barely muster enough inflection to make it a question.

“I have an early flight.”

“Shame.” he mutters, unsure if he means it. It’s not like he’s hated catching up with Chris, not really. Hate’s too strong a word. Disrelished, maybe. Intensely disliked.

And anyway, he knows this part of the night. This is the part where Pine, or whoever he’s with at the time, usually Pine, sends Slutty McSlutterson a parting glance as he leaves the bar and she jumps up and follows him out, leaving Zach to drown his sorrows in just one more for the road, just one more, and ends with his head in a toilet-- preferably his own, commonly not-- where he prays for a god, some god, any god, to end his suffering or at the very least to shift the Advil to somewhere within arm’s reach.

Zach’s still thinking this over when Chris starts walking away; his parting glance overshoots McSlutslut completely and comes to land on Zach, a Well? You coming? thrown over his shoulder for good measure.

“I thought you had an early flight?”

Half of Chris’s mouth twists into a smile. It’s good enough for Zach.

He jumps up and follows him out.

***

Zach doesn’t know who made the first move; Chris doesn’t care.

Still. Zach thinks it might have been him. Probably around the time Chris toasts him with the mini vodka from the bar fridge and calls him bro, and there’s that look on his face that’s more mocking than playful, and Zach decides right then that he doesn’t want to see it, doesn’t want to hear it, so he grabs Chris’s arrogant face and kisses the smirk right off it. He supposes you could consider that the first move.

Whatever, it seems to work well enough, so he keeps at it; follows lips with teeth and tongue, and finally with his dick, and that’s when he knows Chris has got him. Or maybe he had him all along, but Zach didn’t figure it out til just now, either way, he’s caught. And Chris, the little bastard, knows it too, coz he’s still smirking-- Zach can feel his lips stretching tight around his cock and he’s half tempted to pull back and shout what the fuck is so funny but Chris beats him to it. He drags his mouth away, swaps it for his fist and that’s when shit gets so much worse, because now his mouth is free of cock and he won’t shut up, he just keeps on talking, whispering words against Zach’s overheated skin all raspy and infuriating; shit like “You can’t hide from me, Quinto. I see right through you.” and “Come on. I want to see you. Let me see you.”

And Zach replies with fuck, because that’s all he trusts himself to say right now. Just because he’s never punched anyone during sex before doesn’t mean he won’t, and he’s already had enough knowing smirks from this guy tonight to be considered fair motive. Instead he keeps to breathing and writhing, and the occasional fuck slips free but he’s got it under control. That is until Chris starts playing dirty with his teeth at Zach’s nipple, and fuck just isn’t enough anymore, so Zach starts moaning and grunting and saying Chris’s name, fucking screaming Chris’s name-

“CHRIS! Chris, fuck yes, Jesus, don’t stop. Oh ffuuuck, please... Chris, I- yeah, just like that, fucking do it- ChrisChrisChris!”

-and there’s that smirk again, because Chris is right, he’s sees right through Zach’s bullshit, and he knows exactly what this is. He knew before Zach did.

***

“Have you told him?” Chris asks after it’s all over-- real offhand like he’s picking up a conversation they’d put on pause during a commercial break-- and Zach may have failed at making Chris lose it like he did, but he’s got a gut full of cum that says Chris really shouldn’t be looking so composed right now.

Mostly Zach wants not to reply, he’s so tired of pretending. Still it’s like he can’t help himself, it’s so ingrained in him now, this denial, it’s his first fucking instinct from the moment he wakes up. And just because he and Chris have shared some time now or whatever doesn’t mean Chris has broken through all his barriers; like he gets to see inside Zach’s head or something. It sure as shit doesn’t mean Zach owes him anything.

It’s not like one handjob from Chris Hemsworth was gonna change his life perspective. So—

“Told who what?” Zach answers, hedging, always hedging.

“The way you screamed for me, anyone would think I was giving you the fuck of your life.” Chris shifted on the bed, pulling the sheet up over them to cover his spent cock. “Pity I could never compare with the mindfuck Pine’s already given you.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Zach glares just long enough to see a waver of concession in Chris’s eyes.

“This whole ‘brothers from another mother’ thing you’ve got going with Pine? Is bullshit. You’re not his wingman, Quinto. You’re not his bro.”

This time it’s Chris who lets the pause linger, but Zach isn’t taking the bait. Chris sighs, shifts a bit, keeps talking-

“Look, I don’t know why he keeps letting you-- Whatever. It’s not my business. Point is, the way you called my name just now? Would be highly fucking offensive,” he does that pausing thing again, but this time leaves off the look and just keeps his eyes on Zach’s, “If I didn’t get why you did it.”

Zach doesn’t reply, but doesn’t break eye contact either. Chris ditches the intense eye-fucking for a textbook Hollywood grin. “You’re lucky I’m so chill.” he jokes, trying to lighten the mood and fucking failing.

Zach’s blood is boiling under his skin, either out of anger or shame. He hopes it’s anger, because seriously, what has he got to be embarrassed about? It’s not like he did anything so fucking inappropriate. It’s Chris’s name, too, after all.

And that’s when gets it.

It’s Chris’ name, too.

So apparently Zach’s little show of enthusiasm earlier was equal to him saying someone else’s name in bed. Loudly and repeatedly.

Shit.

Well yeah, but everything would have been fine if Chris hadn’t gone and gotten all insightful on him. Who was he to judge Zach for something he barely even knew he was doing at the time? Where’s the fairness in that?

“You think you get me? You barely even know me.” Zach tries for seething but his voice is still a little croaky and he thinks he may have missed the mark.

“I know enough.” Chris shrugs.

“Whatever. Look, don’t you have an early flight or something?” Shifting onto his side, Zach faces the wall away from Chris, hoping body language will succeed where his raspy-voiced fury failed.

Chris just smiles, for real this time, no more smirks. “Shut the fuck up, Quinto.”

He moves up behind Zach, cocooning him in arms the size of tree trunks, a fuzzy thigh settling over his own as a heel nudges its way between his feet. “I’m staying the night. Just to sleep if you want. I’ll try not to wake you in the morning.”

Zach knows he should just shut up and sleep—show Chris he hasn’t bothered him with any of this, that he’s just fine, really, better than—but he’s got Chris’s elbows and knees nudging at his back, and Pine, as always, is nudging at his mind, and all Zach can think is that his bed just got really fucking small.

“Don’t call down for a cab from my room in the morning. I don’t want everyone knowing you were here.” He means for it to be cutting, but it just comes across as pissy.

Chris grins into his neck. “You’re such a dick.”

Zach takes a breath, lets it out a little noisily. “And you’re a presumptuous little douche nozzle.” he hears the smile in his voice but has no idea how it got there. Chris must hear it too, because the grin against his neck turns to lips, turns to tongue, turns to Zach squirming under the weight of Chris’ arms and abandoning insults for sharp hisses of air between his teeth.

“You still wanna fuck Scarlett Johansson?” Chris growls into his shoulder.

“Fuck off.”

“I can get her number for you if you want—oof!”

“Asshole.” Zach pulls back his elbow from Chris’s ribs and twists himself around before he can get tackled into a body-lock again. He uses the distraction to push Chris onto his side, draping over his back and breathing words into his skin: “No more talking. Go to sleep.” He’s had enough of being psychoanalyzed for one night. Chris can think whatever about Zach, as long as he keeps it to himself for the next six hours or so, and Chris can smirk and sigh and question his motives all he wants, but no fucking way does he get to be the big spoon. Zach does have some limits.


End file.
